


And if this proves not successful, your case is desperate indeed.

by outburstsoftheordinary



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F, Homophobic Bullying, Sexual Harrassment, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Thirsty Ann Walker, all curtesy of Thomas Ainsworth: the biggest asshole, ann is out and has a supportive family, ann though it was a date, anne mistakenly thinks ann and james are dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outburstsoftheordinary/pseuds/outburstsoftheordinary
Summary: "Ann holds onto James’s hand for dear life. Her palms are clammy, and there’s an odd queasy sensation in her insides. This is the boldest thing she’s ever decided to do. She’s fancied Anne Lister for years. Fancied her before she even knew whether or not Anne was gay (the day she received confirmation by stumbling across her pressing some girl up against a locker had been both glorious and heartbreaking.) But Anne is single now. Has been for a while now as far as she knows and she’s decided to do something about it—she can’t let Anne go off to university without ever having tried. "Or Ann asks Anne on a date but she doesn't realize because she thinks James and Ann are a couple.





	1. 8 ounces of consideration

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title and chapter title taken from "A Receipt to Cure Love". 
> 
> I know it's out of character for Anne Lister not to immediately know when someone's into her within a 500-mile radius, but this fic idea popped into my head and I thought it would be cute.
> 
> In the U.S. many schools have GSAs (Gay-Straight Alliance or Gender-Sexuality Alliance.) I tried to see if the U.K. had anything similar but I could only find two paragraphs saying that GSA are uncommon there. I'm not familiar with the English school system so I apologize for any errors. 
> 
> Un-beta'd

Ann holds onto James’s hand for dear life. Her palms are clammy, and there’s an odd queasy sensation in her insides. This is the boldest thing she’s ever decided to do. She’s fancied Anne Lister for years. Fancied her before she even knew whether or not Anne was gay (the day she received confirmation by stumbling across her pressing some girl up against a locker had been both glorious and heartbreaking.) But Anne is single now. Has been for a while now as far as she knows, and she’s decided to do something about it—she can’t let Anne go off to university without ever having tried. 

Anne is president of the GSA. She figured that showing up to a meeting is the best way to introduce herself since everyone is welcome. (No public speeches like debate team or try-outs like model U.N. Not that she had figured out Anne’s entire schedule—that would be creepy.) Except maybe she should have thought of a different plan because extracurriculars aren’t really her thing. She finds large groups of strangers intimidating. 

She’s been out of the closet for— well she was never really in the closet to begin with. Ever since she can remember, she has liked girls. She can’t remember ever _not _liking them. She was so young when she knew that she didn’t even know it was supposed to be wrong, didn’t know it was something she was supposed to hide. Why on earth would liking girls be a bad thing?

Whenever they played house, she always wanted a wife and when they played princesses her brave knight was always a girl. The other girls asked her why. Wasn’t it supposed to be a husband and wife? Wasn’t the knight supposed to be a boy? She told them that she wanted it to be a girl because girls are pretty and nice. Besides didn’t boys have cooties anyhow? No one could argue with this logic so they all accepted it in the unknowing way that kids do. She somehow managed to remain ignorant of homophobia in her small playground bubble away from the adults.

It wasn’t until year three when she got married to Charlotte under the oak tree, tying rings of grass around each other's fingers and promising to always share their toys that Tommy shattered that bubble. He went home and told his mom and the next day in school he told her that his mom said she had to marry a boy. It was illegal for her to marry a girl and didn’t she know they used to string up people like her in nooses? She had gone home crying.

When her papa saw her crying, he gathered her up on his knee. He explained that sometimes people were afraid of things that they didn’t understand and that fear could make them do mean things. But Miles and Harriet had gotten married under the oak tree just last week. It wasn’t fair! she protested. And she doesn’t understand why people like boys but that doesn’t mean she’s mean to them. Her parents exchanged hopeless glances, not sure how to explain the irrationality of hate to a child.

The teacher called her parents into a meeting and told them, in no uncertain terms, that such inappropriate behavior must stop. No matter how much they insisted, they couldn’t convince the professor that their Annie hadn’t done anything wrong. It was disgusting that she was so sexual at a young age. She mustn’t expose the other children to it. Perhaps they should think about putting her in therapy. Their protests that it was just innocent children’s play, that they didn’t have an understanding or inkling of what sex was yet, that all of the other children did the same fell on deaf ears.

(Ann became more withdrawn after that to her parent’s dismay. But she found James and Catherine so even though their little Annie didn’t have many friends, at least she had good ones.)

One of her earliest memories (she must have been about 4) is of lying on Elizabeth’s bed and staring up in awe at her Spice Girls poster. (Elizabeth had later caught her kissing it and chased her out of her room yelling at her for getting saliva on her poster.)

She doesn’t understand why anyone _wouldn’t_ like girls. They’re just so soft and so lovely and they smell so nice… 

Sometimes she has good-natured arguments with James about it: him espousing all the attractive qualities of men and her just shaking her head in bafflement.

“But their beards! They’re so scruffy and adorable!” he’ll cry.

“Seems prickly,” she’ll say wrinkling her nose.

She just doesn’t get it. Why would you like a guy when you _could_ like a girl? (Of course, she is nothing but supportive of James. He can have all the guys he likes. She sure doesn’t want them.)

So no, she has never hidden the fact that she likes girls but that doesn’t mean she has ever made the first move (or the second, or the third.)

They arrive at the room where the meeting is being held and she turns to him, eyes pleading. “James, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She glances into the classroom to see Anne in an animated discussion with one of the members.

James takes her face into his hands and looks her straight in the eyes. “Yes you can, Annie. You are smart. You are kind. You are amazing. She’d be stupid not to see that and, if I know one thing about Anne Lister, it’s that she is not stupid. Plus it doesn’t hurt that you’re hot.” He gives her a grin.

“What if I say the wrong thing? What if she doesn’t like me?”

Ann’s breath catches, and her chest starts to feel tight. James can see Ann is starting to spiral so he presses his forehead against hers and strokes her hair soothingly. He knows that physical sensation helps bring her back to the present.

She and James have always been very physically affectionate with one another. They’re both incredibly gay so it’s not like there’s any risk of it becoming anything other than platonic. Whenever they have sleepovers (which happen near-weekly), they always sleep in the same bed. There had been one unfortunate incident where Ann woke up to morning wood poking into her back. She had screamed and tried to get out of bed but got tangled in the covers and crashed onto the floor. At breakfast, Elizabeth berated her: “Why on earth were you making such a ruckus at six o’clock in the morning??”James had been so embarrassed about the whole thing that he’d refused to touch her at all for a whole week no matter how many times she apologized. But other than that they’d never had any reservations about touching one another.

“Breathe. Just breathe with me.” She puts her hands on his chest, feeling its rise and fall, and tries to match her breathing to his.

Once James sees that her breathing has slowed, he says, “I know you really like her and that you probably don’t want to hear this, but there are always other girls. Just give it your best shot. If it doesn’t go well, then you’ll just continue not dating her.”

Ann sighs. James is right. She can do this. She will do this. And, if it does go horribly wrong, if Anne ends up hating her, well Anne will be leaving for university at the end of the year, and then she won’t ever have to see her again.

She wraps him up in a tight hug. “Thank you, James,” she mumbles into his chest. And then, looking up at him with a pout, she asks, “Are you sure you can’t come?" 

“I wish I could but my director will kill me if I miss rehearsal. Speaking of which I should really get going.” He gives her a squeeze before releasing her. “Break a leg.”

Ann closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Without James’s comforting presence, she feels fear wash over her. Nope, never mind. She can’t do this. She can just leave and tell James she went. Except, when she opens her eyes Anne Lister is looking at her. Shit. She can’t leave now. She would think her a freak if she just ran away. Gathering every ounce of courage within her, Ann gulps and steps into the classroom.

Anne isn’t unpopular by any means. In fact, she is very well known and liked within the circles she runs in. (The professors especially have a soft spot for her not that that brings much social clout.) This doesn’t mean however that she doesn't experience her share of bullying. It seems that people tend to have strong opinions about her one way or another.

The rugby team has a particular sort of animosity towards her after a few notable run-ins. The first was when she dated Mariana: the girlfriend of the scrum-half, Charles. Mariana told her that she would come out. That she would break up with her boyfriend. She was just waiting for the right time. At first, Anne had found the secrecy romantic—pebbles thrown at windows under the moonlight, stolen kisses, passionate, hot sex in bathrooms and closets— but she grew tired of it rather quickly, disenchanted by each flimsy excuse Mariana gave. It had all come crashing down when they were discovered making out behind the bleachers. Charles decked her right in the face and subsequently came away with a suspension. This meant he missed their next game which was apparently a very important one. The team lost dreadfully. They never forgave her for that. It wasn't her fault really. She didn’t make Charles punch her. In fact, she thought, as she gingerly inspected her fractured cheekbone in the mirror, she really would have rathered he didn’t. After that, she decided that closeted girls' histrionics weren't worth her time.

The next incident happened a few years later when a girl on her debate team tearfully admitted to her that one of the players had raped her when she was passed out drunk. Through clever manipulation, some finagling, and insults to his manhood, she managed to get the player to accidentally (boastfully) confess what he had done. She, of course, had recorded the entire conversation (which not once mentioned the girl by name) and turned in the tape to the administration resulting in his immediate expulsion. (And, if later his car was keyed and the tires slashed, she certainly did not know anything about that.)

Aside from the rugby team, there are plenty of other people she’s gotten into scrapes with, many of them girls. Because of this, she’s developed a reputation among the student body of being a bit of a player. It’s not entirely untrue—there’d been a few years where she neglected her books to chase after girls (she still received top marks; school has always been easy for her)— but last year she decided to dedicate herself thoroughly to her studies. She’s determined to go to a top university. So instead of talking to girls (or kissing them, or fucking them) after school, she signed herself up for some extracurriculars.

One of the extracurriculars she joined was the GSA. She’s now the president of it and, as she stands, talking to one of the members, she glances at the door to see a girl standing with what is presumably her boyfriend. She’s noticed them holding hands in the hall (of course, she has noticed the girl; she’s gorgeous) but she’s not sure of their names. She thinks the boy’s name starts with a J. Joseph? John?

As she watches, they press their foreheads together, and he starts stroking her hair. Anne rolls her eyes. They’re basically making out in the doorway to the classroom. Typical heteros, flaunting their PDA everywhere. Once, she gave Mary a peck outside of her classroom, and she had gotten detention for a _week. _(She’d tried to complain to the school board, but technically PDA is against school rules even if no one ever enforces it for heterosexual couples. 

She thinks the girl sat behind her in chemistry last year. She’s glad she wasn’t partners with her. The girl never really said anything, and she seemed rather clumsy as she dropped several beakers over the course of the semester. 

The club is made up mainly of queer students, but every once in awhile a straight student will come by either to support a friend or to seem _progressive _and rack up “good ally” points. Anne finds the latter very irritable. And it seems that’s what the girl is here for glancing around the room looking vaguely uncomfortable. But she wouldn’t be doing her duty as president if she didn’t welcome everyone who stepped through the door so she turns up her smile to full wattage and walks over to greet her.

She sticks out her hand and says, “Name’s Anne Lister. And you are?” The girl takes her hand. She thinks it’s the softest skin she’s ever felt. 

“Ann,” the girl says almost too quietly to hear.

“Yes?” Anne cocks an eyebrow waiting.

“No, I mean…I mean my name’s Ann.” Her eyes flick down at their hands still clasped together. Anne had forgotten she was still holding her hand. She quickly drops it.

“Right well,” Anne clears her throat. “Feel free to sit anywhere you like. New people are always welcome.”

The girl, Ann, looks petrified as she looks around for a seat. She’s probably never been in a room with this many queer people before, thinks Anne. Or at least she _thinks _she hasn’t.

Ann is pretty sure she’s never been in a room with this many queer people before. (James had tried to get her to come with him to London pride last year, but she really didn’t do well with crowds.) Not that it bothers her that they’re queer. It’s the fact that they’re _strangers_ that has her stomach twisting itself into knots. But then she sees a face that looks familiar, well sort of familiar.

“Charlotte…?” she ventures.

Anne whips around when she hears someone call Liam by his dead name. Who the fuck? Oh, of course, it’s that Ann girl. But Liam is smiling for some reason so she decides to leave it be and turns back to setting up the powerpoint.

“It’s actually Liam now.” He gives her a grin.

“Oh. I’m- I’m sorry.” She’s mortified. She fucked up. Everyone’s going to hate her now. She hopes to god that Anne didn’t hear her mistake. Her knuckles whiten as she grips her arm tightly, trying not to panic.

“Ann, it’s okay. You didn’t know. Now you do.”

She shuffles her feet not sure what to say. “I…I thought you moved away.”

“I did but we moved back a couple of years ago. I haven’t really seen you around.” He looks at her appraisingly.

“I’m not really…involved much.”

“That’s a shame. Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” He pats the spot next to him on the desk where he’s lounging and she hops up next to him.

“You know you used to always make me feel safe. Like I could be myself.”

“I did?” She’s stunned. She didn’t know she ever made anyone feel that way. She thinks that she usually makes them either uncomfortable or fed up due to her awkwardness. (Except for James of course.)

“Yeah. And you were the only girl who would marry me. Although, I don’t suppose you would now.” He laughs.

She gives him a small grin. “No, you’re right, I wouldn’t.”

“We should probably get that annulled.”

She giggles and looks at him gratefully. She’s feeling much more at ease with Liam next to her.

Just then Anne claps her hands and turns around to face the group. “All right fellow queers. And guests. Let’s get started.” 

As Anne gesticulates about early 19th century queer culture, Liam looks at Ann curiously. She seems to have eyes only for Anne. She lights up whenever Anne looks their way. Interesting. They’d make a pair. Actually, they’d probably be good for one another.

It’s nearing the end of the meeting, and Ann is starting to feel nervous again. She had planned out what she was going to say because she knew she would be nervous, but now she can’t remember any of it. Fuck, she should have written it down. But then what would she have done? Read it to her? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Liam pokes her side. “You all right Ann? The meetings over.”

“I, yeah,” she manages, not taking her eyes off of Anne.

“You know Anne isn’t as intimidating as she seems. She can actually be a big softie. But don’t tell her I told you that.”

She blinks and looks up at him. “Oh, I, um, cool.” Was she being that obvious? Probably. She has it bad.

The classroom has mostly cleared out so she approaches Anne. “Hi,” she says breathlessly.

Anne looks up from packing her bag. “Hey.” She goes back to what she’s doing; she’s not really interested. The girl’s feet shuffle in front of her. She looks up again slightly irritated. “Yes?”

“I….err…tea?” Ann finally bursts out. Oh god. She wants to melt into the ground. Tea, really? That’s the best thing her mind could come up with. Her face feels hot. She must be bright red. She looks down letting her curls fall in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Anne is taken aback. She really wasn’t expecting someone to yell the word tea at her.

“I mean, would you, perhaps, at some point, if you’re interested, not that I expect you to, if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine, but would you maybe come round for tea sometime?”

Anne blinks. She doesn’t think anyone’s ever asked her _round for tea _before. She’s not even really sure why this girl is asking her, but it looks like she used every last bit of nerve she had to ask it. She shifts uncomfortably. She doesn’t really want to. But she finds, for some reason, she can’t really bring herself to say no. She would crush this shy little girl’s spirit if she said no. Surely she should be rewarded for her bravery. And Liam seemed to like her all right; she couldn’t be that horrible of company.

“Yes, all right then.”

The answering beam she receives makes her think that even if tea is awful, seeing that smile will have been worth it.


	2. Half the quantity of indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the quickest update I will ever do. Enjoy!

Ann leans against the auditorium wall, letting her head fall back, and groans. She can’t believe she did that. Well, actually, she can. She would do something that stupid.James walks up to her and sits in one of the auditorium chairs patting the one next to him.

“How’d it go?” He looks at her expectantly.

“I fucked up,” she says letting out another groan.

“What happened?”

“I asked her over for tea and she said yes—“

“Isn’t that a good thing?” he interrupts.

“First of all, tea. Tea, James. I asked her round for tea.”

“I’ll admit it’s unconventional but she did say yes.” He shrugs.

“_Except_ I ran out of there without exchanging phone numbers or setting up a time,” she continues.

“Ah, I see.”

Ann sinks down in her seat.

“I can never show my face again.”

“Come now, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You should leave the drama to me.” He grins at her trying to lighten up the mood.

“Har, har.”

“Seriously though, I know it’s a big deal to you, but it’s probably not to her.”

She crosses her arms and huffs. Sometimes she hates that James is so sensible. Catherine would wallow in her misery with her, but James has to go and use _logic._

“Are you ready to go?” she asks to change the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Actually, I have to stick around and help with the props. I’m sorry, but it will take a while.” He gives her an apologetic look.

They had planned to walk home together but she doesn’t want to wait around. She wants to hide under her covers already and try to forget that she exists. “That’s alright. I’ll just head home then.”

She’s about half-way home when she stumbles and twists her ankle. Searing pain shoots up her leg as her foot goes in entirely the wrong direction, and she finds herself hitting the ground. As if this day wasn’t bad enough already. She waits there hoping that the pain will begin to ease. It doesn’t. She inspects it, wincing as her fingers probe the tender flesh. It’s already starting to swell.

Using a parked car, she hauls herself upright. She stands one-legged, leaning against the car for support. Experimentally, she puts a little weight on her foot. Pain spikes and she jerks her foot back into the air. How is she going to get home on one leg?

She hears footsteps behind her and looks round to see Anne. Apparently, this day just keeps getting worse. Why couldn’t it have been anyone else?

Anne walks up to her and stops. “Are you okay?” she says, pointing at the leg Ann’s still holding in the air.

“Yeah. Fine,” she lies and puts her foot down trying to look normal. It backfires though when the stabbing pain causes her to wince. Ann flushes in embarrassment.

“You shouldn’t put any weight on it. It’ll make it worse. Here, let me help.” Without waiting for an answer, Anne is throwing Ann’s arm over her shoulders and placing an arm around her waist to steady her. “Good?”

“Yeah,” she responds breathlessly. But she is not good. She can feel Anne’s hand around her waist, and she thinks she’s going to die. Her face is still red but now for very different reasons.

Anne starts to walk and she hops along next to her. 

It's not even a block and a half before she’s panting from the effort. "I'm sorry...can we...I just need to...catch my breath," she wheezes.

"Do you mind if I give you a ride?"

“Sorry?" She looks around as if she half expects Anne to pull a car out of thin air.

"I just think it would be faster— and easier— if I just carried you. On my back,” Anne explains.

"I dont...its just..." Ann stutters. She’s already a mess—from the exertion and the close proximity— she doesn’t think she can handle being pressed against Anne.

“It's no trouble." Anne waves a hand dismissively, mistaking the reason for her hesitation. "I'm strong. And you're smaller than I am."

When Ann just looks at her with wide eyes, she kneels down in front of her. "Come on."

Ann stares at her back hesitating. _Everything_ would be pressed up against her. They'd basically be spooning. In the air. But Anne just waits there so she wraps her arms around her neck. And then she’s being hoisted into the air as if she weighs nothing. She can feel Anne's strong, sturdy body beneath her, can feel her muscles shifting as she walks and suddenly Ann's mind is thinking of all the other ways she would like to ride Anne. _Stop it. Behave yourself_, she thinks. _She’s being kind enough to help you out. Don’t objectify her for God's sake._

"Where am I heading?” Anne inquires.

"Down Newton Park Road."

"Oh." Anne sounds surprised. "That's close to where I live."

"I know." Ann winces internally. Way to sound creepy. "I mean I've seen you. Around the neighborhood. When you came home on holidays."

With Anne’s long stride, they soon arrive at Ann’s house.

Anne sets her down and the porch and asks, “How about that tea then?”

Anne looks up at the house. She’s walked past this building a myriad of times. Anne had attended a boarding school up until year 9, but she had almost always visited her aunt on holidays. (She’d not been asked back due to “impropriety”.) So she knew the neighborhoods very well from all her traipsing about, but she hadn’t really known any of the children. She supposes that’s why she never took note of Ann when she was younger: all the faces she’d seen were unfamiliar ones. Whereas Ann probably knew everyone having gone to school with them her whole life. Anne would’ve stuck out to her as the only unfamiliar face.

Anne helps Ann hobble down the hall to the kitchen. While she puts the kettle on, Anne wanders over to the refrigerator where there's a myriad of drawings hung up. They range from what look like little kid drawings to professional art. Almost all of them have Ann Walker signed at the bottom.

“My mom still likes to hang up my art,” says Ann looking embarrassed.

Anne’s fingers hover over one of the drawings following the shape. It’s of a violet. 

“You’re very good. They deserve to be hung.” She tries not to think of her own mother. Of a refrigerator that remained empty, not a single drawing ever hung.

Ann blushes and looks down at her clasped hands. “Thank you. And thank you for rescuing me.”

“Of course, rescuing pretty ladies is my specialty.” Anne gives her what she thinks is her most dashing grin.

“Ah, is that how you got to be so strong?” Ann teases, a twinkle in her eye.

Anne stares at her. This was unexpected. This playfulness. Just then the kettle goes off interrupting their gaze.

While Ann prepares the tea, Anne speaks, “You should keep your leg elevated. And ice it to keep down swelling."

When Ann hands her a cup, she notices that she shifts her hand away so that their hands don’t touch. And then, when they settle on the couch, with their tea and biscuits (and Ann with her bag of ice), Ann leaves a sizable distance between them. Anne frowns. Does she not want to touch a lesbian? Did she only let her touch her before out of necessity and now–god forbid– their hands so much as brush? But then Ann starts talking, and she pushes it out of her mind. She rises above it just as she always does.

Hours pass and they’re deep in conversation, leaning towards one another, all personal space forgotten. They’re so engrossed in each other’s company that they don’t even notice when Ann’s sister, Elizabeth, passes by them.

Ann is the middle of a story when she stops suddenly. "Why are you looking at me like that?” She doesn't sound upset. Just curious.

Anne pauses, unsure if she should say what’s on her mind. She doesn’t want to offend the girl. “You seem different than before.”

“What do you mean?”

Anne pauses trying to think of the right words to describe it. “More animated. Vibrant.”

“I get, I get nervous. In large groups. Of strangers.” Ann looks away ashamed.

Anne grasps her chin gently and turns her head back to look into her eyes. They’re so incredibly blue. “Hey, it’s not an unreasonable fear.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Did you know that I’m afraid of small children?”

“No,” she breathes. She’s very conscious of the warmth radiating from Anne’s hand. “Why?”

“They’re very unpredictable. I never know what to say to them.”

Ann laughs. She’s always liked children. She feels comfortable around them. They’re less judgmental about social etiquette than their adult counterparts. It’s funny to think of confident, daring Anne being afraid of them. 

“But you’re always so eloquent and smooth.”

“With intelligent, rational conversation!” she exclaims. “Of which children are neither.”

“I can’t wait to see you meet all my nieces and nephews and younger cousins.” Ann’s eyes widen as she realizes her mistake and she hastily backtracks. “I mean if you wanted to. In the future.”

Anne smiles. “I think I might like that.” And, to her surprise, she actually means it. Hanging out with Ann was not what she had expected. She thought it would be filled with awkward pauses and uncomfortable silences. Anne had been prepared to monologue about her interests (something she was very adept at) but, to her surprise, they immediately fell into easy conversation. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until her aunt calls wanting to know why she missed dinner. 

She raises her phone showing Ann the incoming call and grimaces apologetically before answering it.

“I’m so sorry I missed dinner. I’m with someone and I lost track of time.”

A pause.

“Ann Walker.”

Ann shifts uncomfortably. She hopes Anne’s aunt won’t think poorly of her for causing Anne to miss family dinner.

“Really? Yes, of course, I will.”

Anne turns and gives her a small smile.

“No, I’ll just walk. It’s only a few streets away.”

She hangs up. 

“Apparently, my aunt knows your parents somehow. She says to pass on her regards.”

“Really? I wonder how.”

“Dunno.” Anne shrugs.

Ann makes to get up to walk Anne to the door. Anne waves her off. “Please don’t get up on my account. You need to rest your ankle.”

Anne gathers her bag and puts on her coat. She lingers, not wanting to leave quite yet.

She looks at Ann. “Would you want to go out. This Saturday?” As much as she enjoyed staying in and talking to Ann, she wants to go out on the town with her. There are a few art galleries in Halifax that she’s been to that she thinks Ann would very much enjoy.

Ann beams at her. “Really?”

She nods her head.

“I’d love to.”

“Here. Let me give you my number.” She holds out her hand for Ann’s phone.

Ann’s wallpaper is of her giving James a kiss on the cheek. Fuck. She’d forgotten about him. She could have sworn Ann was into her with the way she started blushing and leaning into her every word. But, no, she must be mistaken because Ann is far too sweet and pure to ever be a cheater. She must just be overly excited to have a new friend; she probably doesn’t have many with how shy she is. Not that any of this mattered. She wasn’t into her. She was just being nice. She was doing the girl a favor by taking her under her wing— helping to bring her out of her shell. It isn’t anything more than that.

Anne arrives home to find her aunt sitting in the front room waiting for her.

As she takes off her boots and jacket, her aunt says, “You were with Ann Walker? She’s a lovely girl.”

Anne shrugs. “She’s okay, I guess.” 

“You be nice to that girl. She could do with someone like you.”

Anne rolls her eyes. “I am being nice to her. That’s why I agreed to hang out with her.”

“Hmm, and no other reason?”

“Why would there be any other reason?” This is ridiculous why is her aunt interrogating her.

Her aunt looks at her with a penetrating stare. “Be careful you don’t go breaking her heart.”

“I really don’t think there’s any danger of that,” she scoffs before ending the conversation by stomping upstairs.

Ann had tried not to touch her, she really had. After being carried she was such a melty gooey mess that she thought if they touched again she might combust or worse lose all self-control and try to ravage Anne where she sat. But, as they talked, she found herself hanging onto Anne’s every word (she speaks with such passion Ann thinks she could listen to her forever) causing her to quickly forget about keeping her distance. And then when Anne had cupped her face...her heart flutters just thinking about it.

As she makes her slow ascent to her bedroom, Elizabeth passes her carrying a plate of food.

“What happened to you?” she asks eyeing Ann’s leg.

“Nothing.” Ann sticks out her tongue. Hopefully, her ankle will feel better by tomorrow, and she won’t ever have to tell Elizabeth about the incident. She’d rather not be teased about it for the next 7 years of her life.

“Riiiiggght.” Elizabeth sounds disbelieving but she doesn’t press further.

As Elizabeth continues down the hall, Ann calls out, “You know you’re not supposed to have food in your room.”

Elizabeth walks into her room holding up her middle finger without a backward glance and says, “Mum and dad aren’t home yet. They don’t have to know.”

Ann makes it to her bedroom and sinks onto her bed playing the evening over in her head. Anne Lister held her waist. Anne Lister carried her. Anne Lister flirted with her and cupped her face. Anne Lister asked her out.

She gives a sigh like the lovesick teenager she is. Her heart feels so full; it’s bursting out of her chest. Saturday. She can’t wait. God, it’s only Tuesday. How is she supposed to make it four whole days? She could text her. She does have her number after all. Except she doesn’t want to seem needy. What if she makes Anne regret asking her out? Or what if they start talking and Anne grows tired of her before Saturday even rolls around. Though…maybe one quick text wouldn't hurt. She could thank her again. A small text that would open up the line for communication in the future but that wouldn’t be a conversation starter.

She opens her phone and stares at it. On second thought, maybe she shouldn’t do this. It’d probably be too much. She hates feeling like she’s too much. She knows she often is. But, as she stares at her phone screen dithering, she realizes the longer she waits the weirder it will be: it’ll show that she’s still thinking about her. She’s just going to go for it before it’s too late.

**AW: Thank you again for saving me. I had a good time with you:)**

She hits send and tries not to immediately regret it.

Anne is sitting at her desk transcribing the day's events into her diary when her phone vibrates. She picks it up and sees a text from an unknown number. Must be Ann. Really? She was literally just there.

She puts her phone on silent and tosses it onto her bed fully intending to ignore the text. But then she thinks of Ann’s smiling face, and her aunt’s voice echoes in her head “You be nice to that girl.” Groaning she pushes her chair back from her desk and wheels across the floor to her bed. She’ll just send her a brief text so as not to completely ignore the girl.

**AL: Np. Same.**

What on earth has she gotten herself into?


End file.
